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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23716825">lost&amp;;</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/alykapedia/pseuds/alykapedia'>alykapedia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5+1 Things, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:47:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,468</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23716825</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/alykapedia/pseuds/alykapedia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“I’ll find him,” Sylvain says, suddenly reminded that he’d said the same thing to Glenn once upon a time.</p>
  <p>And much like Glenn had done, Lord Rodrigue quirks a ghost of a smile and says, “I know you will.”</p>
</blockquote>(Or: Five times Sylvain found Felix, and one time Felix found Sylvain.)
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>440</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>lost&amp;;</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Wholly inspired by that one dialogue with Sylvain in Academy Phase where he asks Byleth where Felix is, and it just went downhill from there. Still kinda trying to get back into the writing groove, so if this feels kinda clunky, I apologize.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>i</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The palace at Fhirdiad isn’t as familiar to Sylvain as the halls of Castle Gautier or the sprawling grounds of the Fraldarius Estate. He doesn’t know where all the secret passages are, nor is he aware of all the shortcuts leading to the kitchens. He doesn’t know the winding corridors like the back of his hand. Doesn’t know which alcoves are best for hiding in. Doesn’t know when to step lightly as to not make the stairs creak. </p>
<p>And yet he’s the one Dimitri runs to when they’re called for lunch and Felix is still missing.</p>
<p>Because Sylvain may not know how to get from the courtyard to the training grounds in under a minute, or how to climb up the highest turrets of the chapel undetected, but he <em>knows</em> Felix. Knows him well enough to find him each and every time without fail.</p>
<p>It’s practically Sylvain’s job at this point to look for Felix whenever he wanders off or stomps away in a huff. Even <em>Glenn</em> has started to turn to him, and if that’s not a ringing endorsement, then Sylvain doesn’t know what is.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry, Dima, I’ll find him,” Sylvain says with a grin after Dimitri’s third circuit of the grounds yields nothing, and Dimitri starts to look a bit too panicked for a simple game of <em>hide-and-seek</em>.</p>
<p>Wringing his hands, Dimitri asks, “Are you sure?” eyes darting around the courtyard as if Felix would pop out of the stonework if he looks hard enough. </p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m sure.” Sylvain has a pretty good idea of where Felix had gone off to hide, and he’s confident that he can find Felix and make it to the dining hall before lunch is served. “You and Ingrid go on ahead,” he says, shooing them off with a cheery grin and waiting until they’re ushered inside by a nursemaid, before turning tail and running back to the gardens.</p>
<p>There’s really no reason for him to send Ingrid and Dimitri off while he looks for Felix. At least, there’s no reason at all except for selfishness. Because Felix is everyone else’s before he’s Sylvain’s—he’s Glenn’s brother, Dimitri’s companion, and Ingrid’s future brother-in-law first, and Sylvain’s most persistent shadow, second. And as greedy as it sounds, Sylvain just wants to keep this one thing to himself, a little piece of Felix that’s just his.</p>
<p>Veering off the stone pathway, Sylvain ducks underneath a small thicket, getting on hands and knees to crawl through the small—<em>Felix-sized</em>—space. He emerges in a secluded clearing, surrounded by all sides with trees boasting of low-hanging fruit, and sure enough, Sylvain spots Felix, fast asleep, curled up under the shade of a nearby apple tree. </p>
<p>It’s a familiar sight, one that has Sylvain shaking his head in exasperation even as a fond smile touches his lips. Felix is notorious for being able to sleep anywhere, be it a moving carriage or an overstuffed armchair, even in a sunlit meadow, it seems. Completely unlike Sylvain, who only ever sleeps peacefully in his guest room at the Fraldarius Estate. </p>
<p>(Far away from Gautier. Far away from his brother.)</p>
<p>“Fe," he says, barely louder than a whisper as he settles on his knees, in the little space the curve of Felix’s body had made on the grass. “Fe-Fe,” Sylvain calls again, but Felix doesn’t even stir and curls up even further into himself.</p>
<p>If they didn’t have Dimitri and Ingrid waiting for them, Sylvain would just let him be, maybe even join Felix in his nap, but they do, so Sylvain pinches Felix’s nose and quickly dodges the flailing arm that follows. </p>
<p>“Whuh—” Felix starts, nose scrunching up as his entire face contorts into a sleepy frown. There's the beginnings of a tantrum wobbling on his bottom lip, but before Felix can work himself up into full-blown tears, Sylvain is reaching out to tweak his nose again so that Felix's plaintive, “Sylvain,” comes out more like <em>Sealmain, </em>which has them both breaking out into giggles.</p>
<p>“You really need to stop falling asleep when we play hide and seek,” Sylvain says once they’ve both stopped giggling and he’s managed to coax Felix to his feet. “What if we can’t find you next time, huh?” He asks, cautions, warning Felix against his little disappearing acts.</p>
<p>Not that it’s much of a warning because Felix is rolling his eyes and letting out an aggrieved sigh as if Sylvain is the one being unreasonable. “But you’ll always find me, won’t you, Sylvie?” Felix asks, his bright copper eyes warming Sylvain much more effectively than the noonday sun ever will.</p>
<p>“Obviously,” Sylvain huffs, cheeks a ruddy red as he takes Felix’s hand. “Now come on, let’s go before Ingy eats everything.”  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>ii</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Felix disappears halfway through Glenn’s funeral, Sylvain is the only one who notices.</p>
<p>For once, Sylvain wishes it wasn’t so, wishes that someone else would notice that Felix is hurting too, wishes someone else would care. But everyone else is too preoccupied with Lord Rodrigue, Ingrid, and Dimitri, and Felix slips through the cracks as easily as he always does—the forgotten second son, eternally overlooked—with only Sylvain following after him.</p>
<p>He doesn’t bother with the training grounds, forgoes Felix’s rooms entirely, and crosses out all of Felix’s favorite hiding spots one by one as he winds his way through the sprawling grounds, because something tells Sylvain he won’t find Felix there. Instead, Sylvain heads out to the beach. It’s the last place anyone would think to look, especially when Felix has been known to complain endlessly about sand getting everywhere, but Sylvain isn’t just anyone, so to the beach he goes, secure in the knowledge that there’s no one else who knows Felix better than him.</p>
<p>There’s a moment when he thinks his hunch might be wrong, when a quick glance at the shore yields not a single trace of inky black hair, only a pair of familiar boots and—</p>
<p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p>
<p>The breath punches out of his lungs and then he’s running, stumbling, falling to his knees on the patch of beach where <em>Felix’s boots and clothes</em> have been haphazardly tossed, and Sylvain's heart drops to his stomach, because<em> there’s no one in the water and</em>—</p>
<p>“Felix!”</p>
<p>—Felix wouldn’t, <em>he wouldn’t</em>, because for all that Felix is a crybaby, he’s not a coward, <em>not like Sylvain, and Felix would never break their promise, not like this—</em></p>
<p>“<em>Felix!</em>” </p>
<p>He’s halfway through taking his boots off when a loud splash followed by a gasp reaches his ears, and Sylvain’s head snaps up to see a familiar dark head emerging from the waves, staring up at him with red-rimmed eyes.</p>
<p>“Syl.”</p>
<p>“<em>Fe</em>,” he croaks out, staggering to the water, lost and wild-eyed, with one boot still on. “You’re—“ Sylvain pauses, swallows down the <em>still alive</em> stuck in his throat, as Felix collapses into his arms, a cold, clammy, <em>comforting</em> weight he’ll carry willingly. “You’re going to catch a cold,” is what he ends up saying, a whisper that gets lost in Felix’s hair. </p>
<p><em>Both of them</em> are going to catch a cold if Sylvain doesn’t get them back to the manor soon, but he can’t bring himself to move, can’t bring himself to do much of anything except pull Felix closer and closer still, and hold him as he shakes and falls apart.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>iii</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey Professor, have you seen Felix?”</p>
<p>It's weird, having to ask someone else—a stranger at that—about Felix's whereabouts when it’s always been Sylvain who knew where Felix was at any given moment. But it’s been years since he’s had reason to find Felix, and longer still since he’s had to look for him at all. So, as much as Sylvain wants to chalk it off to the monastery’s still unfamiliar halls, he knows that this is something else, something much more complicated than corridors that lead to nowhere, and he’s terrified that the reason he’s asking their blank-eyed mercenary of a professor where Felix is, is because he doesn’t <em>know</em> Felix anymore. </p>
<p>(And if Sylvain’s being honest with himself, the prospect is scarier than being pushed down a well in the middle of winter, scarier still than dying all alone.)</p>
<p>The Professor blinks, once, twice, staring up at him with those fathomless eyes before nodding towards the general direction of the— “Training grounds.”</p>
<p>“Right. Yeah. Training grounds.” <em>Of course</em>, Felix is in the training grounds. Why didn’t Sylvain think of that? It’s Felix. Where else would Felix be? Goddess, he’s an idiot. Plastering on a smile, Sylvain chirps off a hasty, “thanks, Professor,” and sets off, breaking into a run as a sudden desperation claws at his chest.</p>
<p>He cuts through the gardens like a madman, nearly bowling over the nervy girl from the Black Eagles in his haste. There’s an apology ready on his lips, but it’s quickly forgotten when his feet finally carry him to the training grounds where Felix is in the middle of hacking away at a dummy with a training sword. He’s not at all quiet as he moves closer, boots scuffing on the stone, and it’s not long before Felix is whirling around, scowl already in place.</p>
<p>If he’s at all surprised about Sylvain’s presence, he doesn’t show it, the furrow on his brow deepening as he bites out, “What do you want?” </p>
<p>“Nothing.” <em>Everything</em>, Sylvain doesn’t say, effortlessly swallows down the <em>anything you’re willing to give me</em> that threatens to fall out of his lips, because he’s not allowed to <em>want</em>. “I was just wondering where you’ve gone off to,” he adds, aiming for flippancy but landing squarely in the vicinity of sincerity, the way he always does when it comes to Felix.</p>
<p>And it’s a good thing too, because something in Felix’s face changes, expression softening in a familiar way that reminds Sylvain of endless summers spent in Fraldarius, Felix’s smaller hand enveloped in his. “Well, you found me,” Felix grumbles, a splash of pink blooming on the apples of his cheeks, on the tips of his ears. “Now stop staring and pick up a sword.” </p>
<p>“Okay, but if I win, you’re going to have lunch with me.” </p>
<p>(He loses. Terribly. But Felix drags him off to the dining hall afterwards and steals his meat skewers, so Sylvain counts it as a win.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>iv</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Four years, nine months, and twelve days into the war, Felix goes missing after a skirmish deep in Empire territory, and Sylvain’s heart stops beating inside his chest. </p>
<p>He barely hears the rest of the report over the rush of blood in his ears and the sound of what’s left of his heart cracking right in the middle, but he still manages to catch the tail end of his father—<em>no, not father</em>—the Margrave’s empty platitudes to Lord Rodrigue, <em>how unfortunate it is to lose the Young Lord Fraldarius like this and how they can’t really spare soldiers to look for one man</em>—</p>
<p>“We won’t have to,” Sylvain says, voice booming inside the room and cutting off the Margrave's hateful little speech. From across the table, Ingrid is looking at the Margrave with furious eyes, and it’s what propels Sylvain the rest of the way up even as his knees shake and threaten to give way. “I’ll go.” </p>
<p>“You will do no such thing,” the Margrave says, succinct, in a tone that brooks no argument. He affords Sylvain a caustic glance, one that would have rendered him mute had he been a few years younger, but Sylvain is in his twenty-fourth winter, and has learned over the years that there are worse things in life than a father who does not, and will never, love him. </p>
<p>So he turns the other cheek and looks to Lord Rodrigue instead. “I’ll find him,” he says, suddenly reminded that he’d said the same thing to Glenn once upon a time, albeit in less dire circumstances.</p>
<p>And much like Glenn had done all those years ago, Lord Rodrigue quirks a ghost of a smile and says, “I know you will.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The terrible truth of it is this:</p>
<p>If it had been anyone else, any other soldier, Sylvain would have waved it off as another loss, another death, but it’s Felix. It’s Felix, and if finding him means going out in the middle of the unforgiving Faerghus winter with just a horse and the Lance of Ruin glowing malevolently in his hands, then Sylvain will do it. Sylvain will do just about anything if it means getting Felix back.</p>
<p>They’ve already lost Dimitri, they can’t lose Felix too. It’s unthinkable. The political repercussions alone are just untenable, and without Felix’s skills in the frontlines, their little rebel force wouldn’t last until spring. But more than any of that, <em>Sylvain </em>can’t lose Felix. </p>
<p>He can’t. </p>
<p>Because if he loses Felix, then what is there to live for?</p>
<p>“I’ll wait for you two near the border of Blaiddyd,” Ingrid says, pulling him out of his reverie as she brushes a shaking hand over her pegasus. He’d worn her down into acting as backup because someone needs to be the responsible one around here, and it sure as hell won’t be Sylvain. “Our intel says that they’re moving him, so it probably won’t be a large group, but if you’re not back by dawn, I’ll—”</p>
<p>“Go back to Galatea.”</p>
<p>Ingrid snorts. “No, I’m going after you,” she says, as if the two of them have an actual working plan about how to rescue Felix from Imperial troops and aren’t just making things up as they go along. “Anyway, it won’t come to that because you’ll find Felix.” </p>
<p>A part of him wants to refute it—being able to find Felix in a game of hide-and-seek is worlds away from rescuing him from the Empire’s not-so-tender mercies. But another part of him, the part that’s desperate and needy, holds on to that faith, hoarding it close to his chest as he lays siege to the small encampment of Imperial scouts they’d happened upon. Sylvain doesn’t know if it’s luck or the Goddess deciding to have mercy on their poor souls for once, but he cuts through the soldiers easily, with only a stab wound to the thigh and a few broken ribs to show for it. </p>
<p>It’s a massacre, plain and simple, and if Sylvain was a better person, he’d feel guilty about the blood on his hands, but Sylvain’s never been the better person in any situation. All he feels, as he walks the blood-soaked path towards the small cage they’d been keeping Felix in is relief. </p>
<p>“Syl?” </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Sylvain chokes out, falling to his knees at Felix’s side as his sad little heart starts beating again, a steady drumbeat in his chest. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m here, Fe.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>v</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sylvain is not ashamed to admit that Felix is the first person he looks for after every battle. Not Dimitri. Not the Professor. <em>Felix.</em> So when the cheers ring out after Edelgard’s defeat and Sylvain doesn’t see the distinctive blue of Felix’s coat anywhere in the antechamber to the throne room, he almost forgets that he's carrying Annette and nearly drops her.</p>
<p>“Shit, sorry Annie—”</p>
<p>“It’s fine,” she grits out, even though he’d just jostled her broken leg and she would’ve been perfectly justified hitting him with a Cutting Gale to the face. Instead, Annette only flaps her hand at him and shoos him away with a, “Felix and I got separated at the left wing," as soon as he sets her down on Mercedes' lap. “He was--he was facing off with three of those weird dark mages.”</p>
<p>And then he’s taking off, heart in his throat, eyes darting every which way for any sign of Felix. He knows what to look for; from the slant of Felix’s brow to the curve of his neck—a knowledge borne from years of staring at Felix from across a table, over a campfire, and much more recently, at close quarters, on his tiny bed back at the monastery, the soft light of dawn illuminating a face Sylvain would recognize blind.</p>
<p>But it’s not until he’s almost near the entrance hall, the beginnings of a full-blown panic churning low in his stomach, that he spots the slightest, most infinitesimal hint of Felix. It’s a tassel—a tassel from Felix’s coat—Sylvain thinks, breath catching in his throat as he cautiously approaches the small pile of bodies—dressed in the familiar robes of a dark mage. Edging closer, he places a gauntleted hand around what he assumes is a shoulder and pulls, revealing—</p>
<p>“<em>Felix</em>.”</p>
<p><em>—</em>a very obviously concussed Felix, who’s blinking up at him with his pupils blown wide. And Sylvain can’t help the hysterical laughter he lets out, tears pricking at his eyes as he frantically drags Felix out from under the corpses and into his arms. </p>
<p>“You really have to stop going off on your own," he says, the words mumbled against Felix’s grimy cheek as he pulls up whatever bit of faith magic the Professor tried to instill in him back at the Academy and presses a glowing hand to the back of Felix’s head.</p>
<p>From where he’s pressed against the crook of Sylvain’s neck, Felix huffs and peers up at him with unfocused eyes and a disgruntled slant to his mouth.</p>
<p>“You say that like you don’t always find me.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>vi</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The very last thing Sylvain wants on the night of Dimitri’s coronation, is to have it out loudly and very publicly with the Margrave, but that’s what Sylvain gets. And now, here he was, a man grown and a general in the King’s army, hiding out in the gardens, because he really, really does not want to deal with the fallout of being disowned in the middle of a crowded ballroom.</p>
<p>It’s pathetic. He’s pathetic.</p>
<p>His ears are still ringing from the Margrave’s bellowing, and he almost misses the rustling of leaves, if not for the fact that his hiding spot is the best-kept secret in all of Fhirdiad, and there’s really only one other person alive who knows about it.</p>
<p>“Find your own hiding spot, Sylvain.”</p>
<p>Sure enough, when Sylvain opens his eyes, he’s treated to the sight of Felix all done up, and looking down at him in mock-annoyance. It’s an unfairly good look on him. Everything is an unfairly good look on Felix, if Sylvain’s being honest, so he really can’t be blamed for checking him out as Felix sits down next to him. </p>
<p>“Excuse you," he says, once he’s done admiring the little braid someone—Annette, he thinks, or maybe even Mercedes—had coaxed Felix’s hair into. “This is our shared hiding spot.” Sylvain still remembers the day a five-year-old Felix had dragged him away, giddy and giggling about <em>a secret spot that even Dima doesn’t know about</em>. “I’m okay,” he adds a while later, when Felix’s silence becomes a bit too pointed with all the things he can’t figure out how to say. </p>
<p>“I didn’t ask.”  </p>
<p>Propping himself up on his elbows, Sylvain points out, “you were going to,” before rolling over to make himself comfortable on Felix’s lap. He’s fully expecting Felix to buck him off, but he must look as pathetic as he feels, because all he gets is a grumble and a flick to the nose. “Hey, you didn’t try to kill him, did you?” </p>
<p>Felix sniffs. “No,” he says sullenly, lips twisting into a pout that Sylvain wants to kiss away. “Dedue stopped me.” </p>
<p>“Shame,” he says with a hum, closing his eyes when he feels calloused fingers card through his hair. “Do you think Dimitri would let me bum around here for a bit while I try to figure out where to go?” He figures he’s been disowned, and even if by some miracle, he hasn’t, not even the Goddess’ divine intervention can make him go back to Gautier. Not after everything. They’d have to kill him first. </p>
<p>“You can always go back to Fraldarius with me,” Felix says quietly, sincerely, and Sylvain forgets how to breathe.</p>
<p>They’ve never talked about this, about them, and Sylvain hadn’t—he hadn’t let himself hope for more. He’d never allowed himself to think that whatever they had during the war would continue, because he’d told himself a long time ago that he’s fine with just having scraps of Felix’s affections, except Felix is <em>here</em>, offering him everything and <em>oh</em>, Sylvain feels faint.</p>
<p>“My, are you asking me to be your kept man, Duke Fraldarius?” He jokes, offering Felix an out, a chance to brush this off, even as his heart aches with too much longing, but Felix doesn’t take it. </p>
<p>Instead, Felix makes a ring appear out of thin air and sets it down right in the middle of Sylvain’s chest, over his frantically beating heart.</p>
<p>“My husband, actually.” </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sylvain said yes. Obviously. And is now Sylvain Jose Fraldarius, Felix's Trophy Husband.</p>
<p>please help water my crops by commenting</p></blockquote></div></div>
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